


Wake-Up Call

by SunriseinSpace



Category: The Avengers (2012), Toby Daye - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Fluff, M/M, early morning cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseinSpace/pseuds/SunriseinSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Phil has a cat and a Clint and it's really the same thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake-Up Call

**Author's Note:**

> Fusion with Seanan McGuire's October Daye series, in which Clint (and Natasha) is a faerie. 
> 
> Just a little bit of vocabulary to clarify things:  
> \- Cait Sidhe (kay-th shee): a race of faeries who are able to shift into cat form and have the ability to travel through shadows  
> \- changling: a faerie of mixed blood (human and some race of fae), considered to be 'beneath' pure-blooded fae  
> \- knowe: a "pocket of reality balanced between the mortal world and the Summerlands".

Starting, Phil wakes out of a sound sleep, blinking blearily at the watery light filling the room. He frowns muzzily, wondering what disturbed him as he studies the room. As far as he can see, nothing's out of place and none of his fail-safes have been tripped. The only thing out of the ordinary is the tabby cat cuddled up to his side and even that isn't that odd.

"Nightmare, Clint?" he asks groggily, knuckling the top of the cat's head and earning himself a slow golden blink and claws kneading his thigh.

The cat stretches, claws spreading and eyes squinched shut, before pinning Phil with a disdainful gaze. They've been through this before, dealt with it enough times that it's really nothing special now. Doesn't stop Phil from inquiring when it happens, though, just in case it's something worth worrying about this time.

"Mm, sunrise must've woken me," Phil groans through his own stretch, glancing at the clock over his shoulder. It's five minutes to six, five minutes until the alarm goes off and he has to get up anyway. He trails his fingers through the tabby's soft fur, smiling at the grudging purr he gets, and tosses back the covers. "Might as well get up."

There's a grumbling growl behind him as he turns off the alarm and kicks his feet over the side of the bed, hissing with the chill of the floor. He scrubs his face with his hands, grinning when he feels the shift in the weight distribution on the bed. The cinnamon and pine taste of Clint's magic is heavy in the air when he lifts his head, trying to resist the urge to roll back under the covers and curl into the Cait Sidhe's warmth.

"Ugh, I hate sunrise, tastes like ashes," Clint groans, muffled into the pillow. Phil risks a peek over his shoulder, still hoping to resist temptation.

The early morning light is more than kind to the Cait Sidhe sprawled on the bed, lingering in loving golden strokes on the curves and planes of Clint's body, clinging to his gold-and-brown striped hair and picking out the outlines of his pointed ears. There's an occasional silvery scar from past brushes with iron weaponry, but otherwise he's just perfect stretches of warm, smooth skin and Phil can resist anything except temptation. He crawls back under the covers and tucks his smile into Clint's shoulder.

"San Francisco?" he asks against Clint's skin.

"Probably," Clint sighs, curling an arm around Phil and pulling him closer. "Haven't seen Uncle Tybalt since Barney and I asked to leave."

Phil nods. The treaties S.H.I.E.L.D. has with Faerie are fluid and only half-recognized in some places and, while Clint and his brother were only changlings, the Cait Sidhe are fiercely loyal, none moreso than San Fran's King of Cats. The fact that they left the King's Court voluntarily helped the matter only slightly, since Clint now technically belongs to another Court and certain permissions had to be requested.

"Not looking forward to his questions, I can tell you that much." Phil looks up, takes in the frown pulling at Clint's sharply handsome features, free of their enchantments after the sunrise. "Natasha talk to Torquill and the others?"

"Yeah. Both the Duke and the King of Cats have given their permission and assured us of the other knowes' cooperation, in as loosely binding terms as possible. They've got their own problems right now - they'd really rather not deal with ours." Clint sighs and relaxes into the mattress, turning his head to nuzzle at Phil's temple. "We really do have to get up soon."

"Mm, five more minutes," Clint rumbles warm behind Phil's ear, nipping sharp-sweet at the skin. Phil huffs against Clint's neck, fingers twitching with a jolt of need, but forces himself to pull back.

"Quinjet leaves at 9, can't miss it," Phil explains, apologetic and wistful as he takes in Clint's wide eyes, cat-slit pupils large with want. He leans down and nips at Clint's bottom lip, soothes it with his tongue, and rolls all the way to his feet this time, pausing only when his hip snaps angrily at the motion.

"My life is so hard." Phil laughs and heads for the bathroom, cinnamon lingering on his tongue as he steps into the shower.

**Author's Note:**

> Might end up a 'verse. Don't hold me to it.


End file.
